


One More Night

by Tommykaine



Series: Hang the DJ [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Astoria Greengrass Lives, Can Draco ever be happy in my fics?, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Draco is too jaded to know better, Dubious Consent, Fantastic Racism, Fenrir is an asshole, Healer Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Infidelity, M/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Rough Oral Sex, Self-Hatred, clearly the answer is no, draco whump, implied grooming, referenced exhibitionism, sex as self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 18:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30026310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommykaine/pseuds/Tommykaine
Summary: Even after all those years, Fenrir always has a way of knowing where to find him.Draco wishes he could say that he hates him for it, but the one he really hates the most is himself, for falling back into his old habits.A tormented, twisted relationship between someone who feels broken, hastily patched up, and someone who delights in looking through the cracks and poking at them, showing him just how easily everything can fall apart.
Relationships: Fenrir Greyback/Draco Malfoy
Series: Hang the DJ [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1014486
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Harry Potter Smut





	One More Night

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily inspired by the Maroon 5's song of the same title. The concept behind this was that Draco and Fenrir used to have a sort-of-relationship (aka Fenrir groomed the shit out of him...) back when Draco was a Death Eater and no one seemed to be there for him, the whole Hogwarts Battle happened and he tried to leave everything from his past behind, but he's never fully gotten over it. Neither the things he had to do, nor what he and Fenrir had.
> 
> ~~I might one day write the prequel to show the backstory for this because of fucking course I will lmao, as if I haven't tormented Draco enough in my fics~~

_[Try to tell you "no", but my body keeps on telling you "yes"  
_ _Try to tell you "stop", but your lipstick got me so out of breath  
_ _I'll be waking up in the morning, probably hating myself  
_ _And I'll be waking up, feeling satisfied, but guilty as hell]_

_–_

_[Maroon 5 - One More Night]_

Astoria watched him without saying a word as he got dressed. Still, Draco knew she was judging him from the look she had in her eyes.

“I'm sorry, it shouldn't take long,” he said, reciting one of his usual excuses. “You know how this job is.”

“Why aren't you wearing your work robes?”

Draco didn't even skip a beat before answering.

“Because I'm visiting a patient at his house and the family asked for some discretion. If their neighbours saw a Healer walk around the place and get inside, everyone would know of it in a matter of minutes.”

“Hm.”

Draco was pretty sure she doubted his story, but she didn't seem to want to have a discussion about it. Neither did he, which was exactly why he wasn't telling her the truth on where he was going.

It wasn't like she would never find his collection again and notice that it had grown since the last time. She was smart enough to eventually figure it out. But, until then, he would keep on playing dumb for as long as he could get away with it.

He knew that, sooner or later, she would come across it either by chance or intent, and that was when they were really going to argue, but until then he was going to keep up his act and she was going to turn a blind eye to it because they both wanted to keep their peace in the house, even if it was just an act.

He knew that it was stupid, really, not to mention dangerous given his family history. If the Ministry ever came to pay a surprise visit and searched through their house, finding a secret room full of Dark Artifacts – even if unused and protected under magicked glass – would not paint a good picture. For all he knew, it could even cost him his job at St. Mungo's.

Not that he _needed_ to work to take care of his family, but it was still important to him. It was one of the things that kept him going.

After all he'd done to leave his past behind and start anew, clinging to those trinkets seemed like a complete contradiction. Yet there was something in them that was oddly soothing to Draco and he couldn't help his fascination with that sort of thing.

Maybe it was a control thing, knowing he had such dangerous and harmful objects so close at hand yet he would never use them, even if he could have, because he was not the kind of person who liked to hurt others.

Maybe it was something he got from his father. No doubt the man would have been jealous of Draco’s growing collection if he knew of it, given how his own possessions had been confiscated by the Ministry and how the routine checks made it impossible for him to try and smuggle any new pieces. Besides, Draco's mother no longer wanted to have anything to do with that part of their life and she was a lot less likely to keep her mouth shut and humour her husband than Astoria was.

Speaking of his wife, it was too bad neither of his parents were fond of her. Not that she liked them much, either, so at least the distaste was mutual.

Draco's parents also weren't fond of his occupation as a Healer, especially his father. He considered it 'undignified' and a waste of Draco's potential.

Back when he still lived under the same roof, before he married and moved in with Astoria, he and his father used to fight about it on an almost daily basis. His father would try to change his mind and let him know how disappointed he was, but Draco no longer was the same impressionable kid he used to be, insecure and eager to step into his father's shoes, so those tactics didn't work on him anymore.

The truth was, as much as he still loved his father and missed the bond they used to have, he also felt very disillusioned about him. He hated to admit it but, at times, he was even ashamed of him.

Even if they had disassociated themselves from their inconvenient past, both he and Draco's mother still held the same intolerant beliefs as before. On more than one occasion, his father made it clear that he wouldn't mind if someone else stepped up and 'finished the Dark Lord's job', even if he wouldn't want to personally get involved.

Draco tried not to argue with him about it, both because it was a lost cause and because it would only lead to a neverending shouting match that would leave them both drained and resentful. He couldn't understand how his father could not see how wrong he had been, how everything Draco had grown up learning was nothing but baseless bigotry and antiquated prejudices that he now was ashamed of ever believing.

Even so, that wasn't going to stop him from using his family name to help him find what he was looking for, when he once again decided to Apparate in Knockturn Alley.

The new reforms had changed the area, making it much harder to conduct that sort of deal out in the open. It was no longer as easy as to waltz inside Borgin and Burkes and strike a bargain with its owner. But, if you knew where to look and, most importantly, who to ask, it was still the right place to be.

At this point, he didn't bother disguising his own appearance with clothing or potions. He knew his way around the place and he knew he could bribe his way out of trouble if necessary.

Still, as he made his way through the familiar streets, he felt a growing sense of dread coming over him. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling about it. Maybe he should have turned around and left. Maybe he should have headed to a pub and spent the rest of the evening there, instead.

When he finally caught sight of a tall figure following him, his heart sank.

Yet, he didn't try to lose him.

He could recognize him even through the covering robes, even before the other was close enough for him to recognize his smell and hear his husky voice.

“Fancy meeting you here, pup.”

Draco grimaced at the use of that nickname.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding in some foreign country?”

“What can I say, I was feeling nostalgic.”

A clawed hand was placed on his shoulder, grasping firmly on it. Draco wished he had the strength – or rather, the will – to pull himself free.

“I bet you've missed me too.”

“Can't say I have," he lied, his heart racing. “What do you want? I'm busy.”

The older man chuckled, but it sounded almost as menacing as a growl.

“With what?” he asked, sceptical. “What's a respectable wizard doing in this part of town?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Draco moved away and quickened his pace, but of course the other caught up with him within seconds, grasping on his arm and pushing him against the nearest wall.

A part of him wanted to call for help, but to whom? Would it even matter? Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see that the few other people walking around made a point to look away and stay well out of their business. That was both the worst and the best quality about that place. Everyone knew better than to get involved, no matter what they saw.

Yet, despite his growing fear, a part of him couldn't help but feel excited for all the wrong reasons.

“I think it _will_ be my fucking business,” the man practically purred against his ear, looming over him. In that position, Draco could see his face very well. Time had not been kind to either of them, but then again Fenrir had always looked worse for wear even when they first met.

“Fuck off. I told you I'm busy,” Draco weakly tried to protest, pushing against Fenrir's chest. Of course, that did nothing but make him laugh in his face.

“I don't care,” Fenrir replied, eyeing him up and down in a way that made Draco shiver. Fenrir’s lips were curved into an unpleasant grin, his sharp fangs peeking out and making him resemble the beast Draco knew he was. “It's been a while, hasn't it? I bet your body still remembers... I bet you've been craving for it, haven't you?”

“In your dreams,” Draco spat out, wishing he sounded at least an ounce as firm as he had meant to be. He hated how much his heart was racing, he hated the warm flush that overcame his body as Fenrir licked his own lips as if he was looking at a delicious treat. He tried to tell himself that, under different circumstances, the other would not hesitate to eat him up in a much more literal fashion.

So why, _why_ was his body reacting as if that was even more of a turn on?

“Oh, I've had _a lot_ of dreams about this. I bet you'd love to hear about them.”

Fenrir's free hand moved on his chest, slowly caressing him from above his robes. Draco looked around in panic, hoping no one was watching.

“Don't,” he whispered, unable to hold back from adding, “not here.”

He hated the triumphant glint in Fenrir's yellow eyes, he hated the way he moved in closer and smelled him like some kind of animal, before giving his cheek a slow, long lick.

“You've still got the same scent about you. You smell just like a bitch in heat,” the man growled against his face, chuckling as Draco wriggled free and wiped his face in disgust.

Draco wanted to tell him to stop, to fuck off and leave him alone. He wanted to tell him he couldn't do whatever he wanted with him, not anymore, that he no longer was the same naïve and impressionable kid, lost without direction and sense of self. That he didn't need him, not anymore, and maybe he never had but he'd just been too confused and scared to realize it.

But, somehow, whenever he looked into those hungry eyes he felt exactly as powerless and small as he used to be when the man first talked him into it.

Draco remembered how his father had always thought of Greyback as a stupid beast, but he was wrong. Fenrir was cunning, he knew how to get people to listen to him, he knew how to be convincing, and he knew how to turn a no into a yes even without using force.

“My wife is waiting for me,” he told him, but of course that did not faze the older man.

“So? That's not my problem.”

“I'm married now. We can't do this,” Draco insisted, and Fenrir laughed again.

“You were married last time too.”

Draco cringed at those words. But that didn't make them any less true.

“You've got a kid too, now, don't you?” Fenrir asked him, making his blood run cold. “I bet he takes after his father.”

“Are you... threatening me?”

Fenrir only smirked.

“I don't need to. You'll be crawling back to me on your own, like you always do,” Fenrir said, sounding so self-assured and confident that Draco wanted to be angry at him, to take out his wand and curse him just to prove him wrong. “Anyway, I'll be at Morgan's for the whole night. Just ask about Mr. Wolff.”

And, with one last rumbling chuckle, Fenrir turned around and left.

Draco waited for him to be gone before rushing into the first back alley he saw and punching the wall, cursing loudly and grasping on his chest as he waited for his heart to calm down.

Why? Why did he have to come back? Why did he have to be there just at the right time? Did he know he would be there? Had he been waiting for him to walk around those streets so that he could ambush him?

Draco felt angry and scared, not only because of the encounter but also because of the way his body reacted to it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he groaned, feeling sick.

There had to be something wrong with him. No sane wizard would react to such an encounter with anything but horror and dread.

Yet, despite everything, he could feel himself growing hard and he hated himself for it.

There was no way he would do as that bastard said and let him play him for a fool again. Those times were over.

But that was what he said last time too.

He didn't come there for that…

Then again, didn't a part of him think that maybe, if he ever was to run into him again, it would be in such a place?

_He wasn't supposed to be here..._

But the same could be said for him. Yet, there he was, despite knowing how much trouble he could be getting himself into.

Draco rested his head against the cold wall, closing his eyes and sighing.

What was it about Fenrir that had such an effect on him? He was a brute, a monster, he’d taken advantage of him before, he used his inexperience and his curiosity against him and made him do things he was ashamed to even think about.

And yet, who had been the one to look for him again, time after time, to come back for more every single time?

And why? Because it made him feel 'special'? Because it was a way to rebel against his family? Because he didn't know anything about sex and Fenrir had been the first to look at him like an adult and not like a stupid kid… or at least that was what he thought back then?

Things had changed since then. He was an adult now, he had a family, a wife and a kid.

But how was that different from last time? How was it different from the time before that, either?

If he left then and there, if he went back home, how long would it be before he came across him again? How long before he had another chance?

He hated himself for even thinking like that, but…

It could very well be the last time.

Maybe next time Fenrir would do something stupid and reckless, even for his standards. Maybe he would get captured and thrown into Azkaban. Maybe that was the last time he would ever meet him like that again.

What if it _really_ was the last chance he got?

Draco felt sick just thinking about it, but-

_“I bet you've been craving for it.”_

Hadn't he?

Hadn't he touched himself, more often than he cared to admit, thinking back to the last time he was taken like that, thinking of when the next time might be?

That didn't mean he _wanted_ it… or did it?

Draco tried to think of his wife, waiting back at home, probably wondering if he really was working like he said he would.

He was already lying to her. He had lied to her before. What difference did one more lie make?

Would it really be any worse than the lies he'd been telling her so far?

He thought back to his nights with her. He loved her, he really did, and he felt good with her. She made him feel safe. She made him feel like he was worth something.

And yet…

It just wasn't the same.

It was as if there was an itch that she couldn't really scratch. There was something she couldn't give him, something that no one else could.

Draco would know. He could have slept with other wizards, in fact he had tried to before getting married, but they never gave him what he was looking for.

They didn't treat him like Fenrir did. They didn't feel right… or rather, maybe they felt _too_ right. They cared too much about him, even the one-night-stands he barely cared to learn the name of. They had always been so careful to treat him right, to make sure he didn't do anything he wouldn't want to.

As for Fenrir, well, Draco doubted he ever cared about anyone but himself and maybe his cause.

Back when he first gave up and slept with him, he had fooled himself thinking they had something special. He was under no such illusion anymore.

Why did Fenrir come back for him anyway? Couldn't he find some other poor wizard to use and treat like a toy? Couldn't he take out his lust on someone else?

Maybe it was about control. Maybe he liked to know he still had the same influence about him, that he still could make him squirm, get under his skin. Maybe that was what got him off.

Draco wished he was wrong. He wished he didn't feel anything for him.

He wished his steps hadn't brought him straight to Morgan's, once again.

It wasn't the first time they met there. He doubted it would be the last.

Draco tried not to think about that as he talked to the bored-looking witch at the counter and told her he was looking for 'Mr. Wolff'.

_Talk about subtle._

As he made his way up the stairs of the inn and through the corridor, asking himself what the fuck he was doing, he told himself it would be the last time. That he would close that chapter of his life then and there and then he would forget about it altogether. That, if he didn't go along with it, Fenrir could have found a way to make him pay. Hadn't he threatened him into it, mentioning his son in such a way? Wasn't he implying something, or was that just him reading too much into it? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t help but think that Fenrir had said that on purpose, that he knew he’d made it so that Draco wouldn’t be able to stop dwelling about it, so that he would have some kind of excuse to justify his own actions to himself, or at least try to.

Of course, that didn't excuse the way his body ached for it, it didn't change the fact that a part of him was trying to convince himself that if he _had_ to then he didn't have to feel guilty for coming there even if that was what he’d wanted to in the first place.

It was hard to keep his head straight when he opened the door and saw him sitting on the bed, waiting for him with a glass of mead in his hand and wearing nothing at all. He was already hard, something that didn't fail to catch Draco's eye. Just the thought of how it would feel to have it inside of him again was already making his knees feel weak.

“About fucking time,” Fenrir growled, downing his drink and placing it on the nightstand before getting up and walking up to him, giving him no time to adjust to the situation as he grasped on his throat and pulled him towards the bed, pushing him down on it and kissing him fiercely.

Draco would have wanted to tell him to stop, to slow down at least, but before he could say anything his robe had been pulled off of him so roughly that he was sure it got torn up in some places.

One of his hands went to grasp on Fenrir's wrist, trying to get him to loosen his grasp, but the feel of those claws against his soft throat was making his blood pool down to his groin. The other hand was grabbed on by Fenrir and pulled down between his legs until Draco was touching his raging hard cock, his fingers instinctively closing around it like they had done a million times before.

“Do you feel that? Feel how hard I am, just thinking about your pretty tight ass?” Fenrir growled against his ear once their lips parted, moving his wrist to make him stroke it before letting go.

Draco's hand stood still for a moment, then he slowly but surely started to stroke him on his own, causing him to groan in pleasure. Fenrir's larger body was pressing against his, weighting heavily on him and making him feel trapped. He remembered that feeling, the feeling of being utterly and completely dominated by him, and it was making his whole body tremble with both fear and excitement.

“Let's see how much your body still remembers,” Fenrir told him before flipping him over, making him get on all fours on the bed before he leaned in to lick and suck on his neck, leaving hickeys that he would have to remember to hide before leaving. Draco would have protested, but he was too busy moaning, especially when Fenrir's hands moved down on his chest and he started to play with his nipples, pinching and pulling on them. Draco cried out in pain and pleasure, squirming underneath him, but he kept his back arched and his chest raised so that it would not be hidden against the mattress.

“You love to have your tits played with, don't you?” Fenrir asked, chuckling when Draco could only answer with a loud cry as he twisted them roughly and pulled on them at the same time, so hard that it felt as if they were going to be ripped off of his chest. “Does your dear wife know you've got the body of a bitch? I haven't touched your cock yet and you're already dripping… I bet I could make you cum just from your nipples.”

Fenrir then licked his ear, sliding his tongue in for a few moments before moving down and biting on his earlobe as he flicked on his nipples, scratching them with his rough fingernails. Meanwhile, he pressed his cock between Draco's thighs, rubbing it against the underside of Draco's balls and cock as he humped him like a horny dog.

Draco hated the way his body was responding to those attentions, getting warm and twitching while his hips moved on their own to meet Fenrir's thrusts, his thighs pressed together to squeeze on his thick hard cock. He was going to cum and Fenrir wasn't even fucking him yet, he was going to cum just from having his nipples played with and his thighs used like a masturbation tool by that brute, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

“Oh, your body remembers alright, I've trained it well,” Fenrir growled against his ear, humping him faster and twisting his nipples again and again, one way first and then the other way around, making them so sore they were going to throb in pain even just by having the fabric of his robes or of the sheets brush against them for days. “It knows who it belongs to. It knows you're nothing but my own personal fucktoy-”

“T-that's… nh! Not true!” Draco complained, but it was hardly convincing when his hips were shaking and his cock was oozing precum all over the bedsheets underneath him, creating a stain on them.

“No? You're saying you don't want my cock?” Fenrir asked, sounding amused. Suddenly he let go of him, causing him to collapse against the mattress. Draco gasped in pain as his aching nipples rubbed against the rough fabric of that low-grade bed, panting loudly with his face pressed down on the pillow, his drool rapidly soaking through the fabric. His cock twitched, desperate for attention, his legs trembling as he held back from just humping the bed in the most undignified manner.

“You don't want _this_?”

Fenrir crawled forward until the tip of his cock was pressed against Draco's cheek, showing off his big throbbing erection. The smell of sex was overpowering and, even if it had been so long ago it seemed like a different life, Draco still knew how it would taste if he were to turn his head just a little and take it into his mouth.

He swallowed hard, his grey eyes staring at it with something akin to desperation. He raised a shaky hand to grasp firmly on it, telling himself it was to move it away from his face, although he certainly did not need to stroke it in order to do so. It felt so hot and he could feel it throb, he could feel how much Fenrir wanted him and it was making something inside of him quiver and clench down, a faint wave of pleasure coming from his ass as he remembered just how good it felt to be pinned down and fucked roughly by that same cock he was holding in his hand.

“I… I don't,” he replied, his voice trembling and betraying the fact that his willpower was crumbling to pieces.

Before he could say or do anything else, Fenrir slapped his hand away and pushed him off the bed, where he fell with a loud thump. Draco gasped in pain and shock as his arse hit the floor, looking up at Fenrir in confusion.

“Well, fuck off, then. Stop wasting my time,” Fenrir told him, sitting on the edge of the bed and leisurely stroking himself. “I'll jerk off by myself, or maybe find someone else who's not too scared to man up and own up to what he wants.”

Draco felt his face heat up, from anger but mostly from his shame. How could that bastard treat him like that? He should have turned around, gotten dressed and left without another word. He should have told him he was a colossal piece of shit and he wasn't going to let him treat him like garbage.

But his own cock was still painfully hard and his ass was twitching, aching to be filled, his nipples now bright red and sore and as hard as pebbles, and his eyes were still fixated on the cock that was presented to him in that shameless display.

“So? What are you still doing here?” Fenrir barked at him, grasping on his hair and pulling his face closer, until the tip of his cock was a mere few inches his lips. “Is there something you want here? Hm?”

Draco's entire body was shaking. He knew he shouldn't be wanting it, he knew he should have taken the chance to get away while he could, but…

Fenrir's grasp on his hair tightened to a painful extent, pulling him closer and closer, until he was breathing right against the tip of his cock. If only he were to open his mouth and stick out his tongue, he would be able to taste it.

His own cock twitched again and he moved one hand down to touch himself, but Fenrir took his wand and murmured a spell to bind Draco's arms behind his back.

“If you're gonna get off while you're with me, you're going to get off from my cock rammed deep inside your ass,” the man reprimanded him, pinching on one of his nipples as if to punctuate his words, causing Draco to cry out loud and move forward, his lips brushing Fenrir's cock. “And if you want that, since you're being such a fucking brat, you'll first show me how hungry you are for it by using your pretty little mouth.”

Draco swallowed hard, glaring, looking at Fenrir's face first, then lower down until he was staring at his cock again. His mind screamed at him to stop as he opened his mouth and leaned in closer, wrapping his lips around its tip, but the familiar salty taste was enough to make his entire body shiver in delight.

Taking more of it in his mouth, Draco started to suck and lick on it, all while staring up at Fenrir and feeling his face heat up as the man's lips curled into an incredibly smug smirk. A part of him almost wanted to bite down out of spite, but they both knew he wouldn't dare to.

“Damn, pup, you're a natural born cocksucker,” Fenrir told him, pulling on his hair to force him to take more, making him move his head back and forth as he sucked. “I wonder if you can still deepthroat it? It's been a while, but I bet you can still do it if you try it.”

The thought of swallowing his entire length was both terrifying and exciting to Draco. He remembered how painful it always was, how humiliating and utterly degrading it felt, but all that did nothing but make him crave for it even more. Because, deep down, he _wanted_ to be degraded, he _wanted_ to be used and abused, he wanted to be nothing more than a hole that the other could use to relieve himself, with no consideration for his feelings.

All along, _that_ was what he'd always been missing, what nobody else had ever been able to give him. And he knew that Fenrir understood, that Fenrir knew exactly what he deserved, because as much as he hated to admit it, that man probably still knew him better than anyone else ever could. Enough to know how full of shit he was, enough to see past his whole goody-two-shoes act, enough to know that he was rotten, fucked up, forever ruined in a way that could never fully be fixed no matter how hard he tried. Enough to know the full extent of how _disgusting_ he truly was, and yet, to still desire him in spite of it, or maybe even _because_ of it.

When he felt the tip of Fenrir's cock push against the back of his throat, Draco's eyes watered and he choked on it, but his whole body flushed and the floor was starting to get stained with his precum as his cock helplessly dripped its arousal like it was fucking _drooling_.

“There you go, open up, that's a good cocksleeve.”

Even if Fenrir praised him in such a mocking fashion, Draco couldn't help but feel a twinge of something like a twisted sort of pride, even if he knew he was being looked down upon.

“Ooh, yes, that's it, take it, take it all! Yes… swallow it up and don't stop sucking. Fuck, I'm gonna cum straight into your throat, I'm going to fill you up and you're gonna swallow it all!”

With the way Fenrir's hips frantically thrust back and forth, Draco could do very little except do his best to keep his teeth out of the way and to keep on sucking, while the man's huge cock forced its way in and out of his throat with bruising force, making him feel as if it was being rubbed raw. By the point when Fenrir's pubes were pressed against his nose, he could do nothing but to try and not to choke on his length, which was becoming more and more difficult with every passing second.

“Stop fucking trying to pull back, you're gonna choke on my cock until I'm done cumming!” Fenrir growled when Draco tried to move away to breathe more easily, his eyes and nose watering so much it was making it hard not to choke on his own drool and snot.

Thankfully, Fenrir was getting close to his climax. With a few more furious thrusts, he came inside Draco’s throat with a low groan, grasping on his hair and pressing his face so hard against his own crotch that Draco almost blacked out before Fenrir finally pulled out and let go of him, dropping him on the floor like a used rag.

“That wasn't half bad,” he told him, still panting, while Draco coughed so hard he was spitting drool and cum on the floor, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Well, I'm sure your lower mouth is even hungrier now,” Fenrir then said, waving his wand to unbind his arms and the grasping on one of them to lift him up, pulling him back up on the bed. “But you're gonna have to get me hard again first. I'm sure you know what to do.”

Draco swallowed hard, his throat aching from the rough fellatio. His face was wet with tears and snot, so he wiped at it with the back of his hand, sniffling. He glanced at the door, knowing he could pick up his clothes and his wand, and make a run for it.

He wondered if Fenrir would stop him if he tried.

He hated that he didn't need to.

Draco was still so hard that it ached, but he didn’t try to touch himself again. Instead, he held his hand out for Fenrir to touch with his wand, murmuring a familiar spell to coat his palm with a slick substance.

Draco spread the cold fluid all over his fingers, rubbing them against his palm and warming it up, then laid down on his back against the mattress, legs wide open and trembling in shame and excitement. He could feel Fenrir’s eyes on him even without looking back at him, he knew that he was staring at him as if he was a fresh piece of meat.

_Like a beast in front of its prey_ , he thought, a cold shiver running down his spine.

The first finger slipped inside him with ease, down to the last knuckle. The second one stretched him out more, and Draco couldn’t help but let out a small groan of discomfort.

“What, it’s really been that long since you got a good pounding?” Fenrir asked with a raspy chuckle. “Mmh, been keeping it nice and tight for me, baby?”

Draco closed his eyes and tried to ignore Fenrir’s voice, tried to focus only on relaxing and easing himself into it, but of course that jackass couldn’t keep his mouth shut and always had to say whatever went through his mind, especially if it was crude and graphic.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you, pup. So you better prepare yourself for it, ‘cause I’m giving it to you hard, just the way you like it.”

“W-will you shut up?” Draco snapped at him, lifting his head to glare at the bastard, but Fenrir only laughed. With a small sigh, Draco let his head fall back against the mattress and carefully worked a third finger inside, sweating from the effort. He’d just started to get soft again, when his fingers brushed against that spot that had him gasping and moaning, a jolt of pleasure coursing through his body.

“Ah, now you’re feeling it, aren’t you?”

Fenrir’s voice was lower, huskier, and when Draco glanced up again he wasn’t too surprised to see he was stroking himself, that the perverted display had already started to get him hard. The bastard had at least thirty years on him, if not more, yet he still got hard as easily as a damn teenager. Draco had to wonder if it was because he was a beast, or if his libido was just that strong.

“How do you want me to give it to you? Mh?” Fenrir asked, licking his lips and showing off his sharp teeth in a wolfish grin. “Are you gonna ride it like the filthy slut you are, or are you gonna play shy and get on all fours like a good little bitch?”

Draco flushed at those words, looking away. He normally wouldn’t have been that shameless, but a few times when he’d been much drunker he’d gotten on top of him and fucked himself on his cock – at least until Fenrir had gotten too impatient and slammed him down to finish it off, pounding him so hard and making him scream so loud that, the last time this happened, one of the guests in the next room tried to come over and bang on their door to tell them to tone it down. Of course, being little more than a filthy animal, Fenrir had picked Draco up as he left the bed, not even bothering to pull out, and opened the door like that, both of them still naked with Draco wrapping his arms and legs around his body to keep himself from falling, Fenrir’s hard cock still buried balls-deep in his ass.

“Need something?” Fenrir had asked gruffly to whoever had the bad idea of bothering them, and Draco hadn’t seen the man’s face but he’d heard the shocked gasp and the stuttered response followed by a series of rushed footsteps as the guy ran away. Fenrir had laughed, closed the door and fucked him against it, making a point of being as loud and vocal as possible.

The next day, once he’d sobered up, Draco had felt like he wanted to die from the humiliation and had of course been furious at Fenrir, who laughed at his rage and told him that he had to have some kind of exhibitionism kink since he came much faster than usual.

Sufficed to say, from then on Draco refused to drink even a single Butterbeer in Fenrir’s presence.

“What, you finally got too old to move yours hips and now you want me to do all the hard work for you?” Draco provoked him, a smug smirk on his lips as he saw the other man narrow his amber eyes.

“Look at you, all grown up but still acting like the same cocky brat I deflowered,” Fenrir replied, stroking himself faster. “Did your daddy ever find out what kind of a slut you were back then, hopping on the cock of one of the _lowly beasts_ he hated so much as soon as you got the chance? Does he know that I’ve popped the cherry of his precious, Pureblood heir?”

Draco couldn’t help but wince, even if at that point he should have been used to it. Fenrir loved to remind him of the fact that he’d been his first, that no matter who else he fucked, he would always be the one they would have to top and, as he never seemed to get tired of saying, “that just ain’t gonna happen, pup.”

Draco wished he could have proven him wrong. But, as he thought bitterly, _if I had, I wouldn’t be here, now, would I?_

“If he had, you would be dead,” he told Fenrir, and a part of him almost wished he hadn’t been as good at hiding things from him. Then again, the last thing on his father’s mind back then most likely was that he might be fucking a man more than twice his age – Draco had never quite known how old Greyback was, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know he was older than his father, nor that he wasn’t the first kid he’d preyed on. That man was the lowest of the low, the vilest of the beasts, yet he’d willingly let him put his filthy hands on him over and over again, even when he’d been old enough to know better.

Rather than seeming threatened, Fenrir’s eyes glinted dangerously and he moved in closer, crawling towards him to grasp on his wrist and wrench his fingers out of his hole, making him gasp out loud.

“Don’t underestimate me, pup,” Fenrir told him in a low growl, grabbing his thighs and spreading them open, pushing them up towards his torso at the same time. “Your daddy couldn’t have done _shit_ to stop me, and we both know it. Isn’t that what got you so hot for me in the first place? Banging me behind his back, knowing how mad it would make him, knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do even if he found out?”

Before Draco could even try to answer, Fenrir lined up his cock with his hole and pushed, forcing his way inside him until the whole thing was halfway in, stretching him out painfully.

“Oh, _fuck!_ ” Draco cursed under his breath, grasping on the sheets and clenching his teeth, hissing as he felt that cock pull out and then push in again, inching its way in with every thrust. It hurt, it always hurt at first, no matter how drunk he was or how much he tried to prepare himself. Even back when they used to do it on the regular his body never quite seemed to get used to Fenrir’s size, and it wasn’t like the man ever tried to be gentle or patient.

But, well, that suited Draco just fine.

“Ah, shit, yes!”

Fenrir groaned loudly, claws digging into Draco’s thighs, cutting into his skin – he never cared about whether he left marks on him, it wasn’t like it was his problem if Draco’s filthy affairs got found out, after all.

“Fuck, I knew it, this hole is still the best,” Fenrir said, a rumbling chuckle erupting from deep within his chest. He didn’t give Draco any time to adjust, slamming his hips against his arse until he was balls-deep inside him, enjoying the feel of that tight passage clamping around his cock. “You’re not as pretty as you used to be, maybe, but you’re still a fine bitch.”

“Fuck… you…” Draco groaned, panting and looking away, wishing that little comment didn’t sting as much as it did. He knew Fenrir didn’t fuck him because of his looks, not anymore, much less because he cared about him, but he didn’t need to hear it while he was getting his arse split open by his cock.

Now that he could move more easily, Fenrir changed the angle of his thrusts, and finally his cock struck that spot inside Draco that had the younger man gasping and moaning out in pleasure, stars sparkling under his eyelids.

“Aw yeah, found your sweet spot, didn’t I?” Fenrir asked, grinning again and fucking him even harder now that he knew where to strike.

Draco couldn’t even try to say anything, the only sounds coming from his mouth were loud cries of pleasure and the occasional pained moan at a few particularly harsh thrusts, especially whenever Fenrir accidentally pulled too far back and slipped out, then thrust himself back in right away.

Fenrir tried to push his legs up even further, forcing Draco to rest them on his shoulders and letting go of his thighs, moving his arms against the mattress and pinning him down with his whole weight as he fucked him so hard that Draco could hear the sound of flesh slapping against flesh even as he moaned with every thrust and Fenrir grunted and groaned almost as loudly.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s it, that’s- Aah, yes, that’s a good slut, oh you feel so fucking good, it’s like you were made to take my cock, my own personal cocksleeve… fuck!” Fenrir growled, before grasping on his face and clashing their mouths together into a sloppy kiss, biting on his lower lip and sucking on his tongue. His rough beard scratched Draco’s face and his fangs left a cut on his lips, making him taste blood and mead and the faint aftertaste of something like tobacco – a cigar, maybe.

Draco kissed him back just as eagerly, hands grasping on his grey hair, sinking into the matted mass. He remembered the first time he was kissed like that, like the man was trying to devour him, and how much it had excited him and scared him all at once. He remembered the clumsy way he’d tried to reciprocate, feeling so grown up and yet so immature, scared that the other would think him too childish and inexperienced for his tastes, without realizing that it was actually a turn-on for the much older man.

“Ooh, who’s my little pup?” Fenrir asked against his lips as the kiss broke, both of them panting and gasping to catch their breath, and even after all those years, even as he knew there was no real warmth behind those words, Draco’s heart still skipped a beat and he felt a pang of nostalgia.

“Ooh, you’re such a good pup, such a dirty little bitch, letting me breed you… I’m gonna make you cum so hard you’re gonna cry, I’m gonna fuck your cunt ‘till you’re all filled up… shit, wish it was a full moon so I could knot you like a real bitch!”

Draco could only moan and gasp as Fenrir fucked him harder and harder, trembling from head to toe as he felt his own pleasure build up. The pain of the rougher thrusts and the heavy weight of the werewolf’s body pinning him down and holding him still were only adding to his arousal, making him get lost in the moment, enjoying every second of that delicious torment, of that humiliation and helplessness and pain and everything else that he knew he shouldn’t want but couldn’t help but crave, that perfect mix that only Fenrir seemed to be able to deliver with such pinpoint accuracy that he would have thought the man might have the power of Legilimancy if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d always been skilled at occulting his mind from that sort of ability.

“I-I’m gonna… I’m gonna come,” he cried out, barely able to form words, not sure if he’d actually even said it or if it had just been echoing in his head, and soon enough he was unable to think as well as a wave of pure pleasure washed over him, making him scream and arch up and shoot his release all over his own stomach and chest, convulsing around Fenrir’s cock and seeing white, barely aware of the fact that Fenrir was telling him something because he could vaguely feel the rumble of his chest though he did not have the slightest clue of what he might have said.

His body kept trembling long after he came, and the way that cock kept assaulting his prostate bordered on painful, but in that moment he didn’t care, and he was crying and sobbing or maybe laughing, even he wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that, when Fenrir finally came inside him and pulled out, he was a mess of tears, semen, snot and sweat.

Fenrir’s mouth then found his again, forcing one last kiss on him, and Draco was too tired to even protest, too tired to think of anything, and deep down he knew that once again he would feel like he wanted to die once the night was over, but in that moment all he could do was lay there and let Fenrir kiss him and bask in the warm afterglow of his orgasm.

“Well then,” Fenrir said, moving away and letting his legs fall down against the bed, watching as he curled up on himself and covered his face, shaking as all the guilt he’d pushed to the back to his mind was slowly starting to resurface. “I better get going, now. It’s been a pleasure.”

He touched his shoulder and Draco flinched, so he shrugged and got up on his own, gathering up his robes.

“I’ve already paid for the room. Feel free to sleep in,” he told him, completely unaffected as always. Draco knew he shouldn’t have expected anything else. It wasn’t like he wanted him to feel anything in particular, but… well, in the end, they both got exactly what they wanted, didn’t they?

Turning to look at him, Draco watched as he headed for the door, and despite everything telling him not to, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Where will you be going?”

Fenrir glanced back at him, one corner of his lips curling up into a lopsided smirk.

“Why? You wanna tag along?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, hating himself for thinking even just for a moment that he might actually want to say yes.

“Forget it,” he told him instead, and Fenrir’s smirk grew wider.

“Goodbye, pup,” he said. “I’ll be thinking of you, next time I rub one out. Tell the missus I said hello.”

Draco glared at him so hard he thought he might hex him by accident, but Fenrir only laughed and left without another word, leaving him there alone with his thoughts again, too exhausted to cry and too angry to even begin to make sense of his spiralling thoughts.

As he left himself drift into a restless sleep, he knew that, once he woke up again, he would crawl back home and hide in the shower to cry, try to scrub the filth out of himself despite knowing that it was no use trying, that he was not going to be able to look at his wife or his son in the eyes again for days because he would feel as if they could tell just by looking, as if he might contaminate them just by breathing the same air.

_[So I cross my heart, and I hope to die  
That I'll only stay with you one more night  
And I know I've said it a million times  
But I'll only stay with you one more night…]_

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a review if you liked this story and/or had any thoughts about it, concrit is accepted and encouraged but everything from a "<3" to a fitting gif or anything really is appreciated!


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